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"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU THINK?" Derek asked with a frown etched on his face, "It is either yes or no."
I rolled my eyes at his mildly sardonic tone. "I don't know, okay?" I admitted as I walked alongside him. "I am not someone who remembers the dream after waking up. It doesn't matter if it's a bloody nightmare or a good dream with rays of sunshine and daisies. I just wake up blank. But I do know deep down I dreamt about something."
Derek stopped pushing the shopping trolley and pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated and exhausted with almost everything. He resembled my spirit animal for a second there. He let out a deep sigh and looked at me. "What exactly do you want my help with, Scott?"
"I want to know if I was the one who did it?" I said, picking the cereal box from the top shelf and dropping it into the pushcart. "And I want to not sleepwalk to a murderous Alpha in the middle of the night with my fucking PJ's on," I hissed at him in a low tone, suddenly angry with the whole stupid situation I am stuck in with.
"And I told you it will take time," Derek said, pushing the cart forward. "I can't say I understand what you are going through-"
"No, you can't," I snapped, stepping into his personal face. "I should be worried about my college, my grades, and my future...I shouldn't be afraid over my life, wondering if I will die in the hands of hunters, not knowing if I will ever get to go home, see my family again." I clenched my hands tight, nails pressing deep into my skin as they grew due to loss of control over my emotions. "I don't deserve this. I don't think I do. I didn't ask for this, and I just hate...how helpless I feel thinking about all this. I just- I just want to get up and find out that all of this is one terrible nightmare. I want out."
A soft, sympathetic pat on my shoulder brought me out of my episode. I didn't realize that hot tears were cascading down my cheeks until Derek took my hand into his and wiped the blood off it by ripping open a tissue box from the cart. He then shoved a few in my hand, silently asking me to dry my eyes.
"I am sorry," I muttered, stepping back from him, a little ashamed for taking it out on him.
"It's okay," Derek waved it off.
"No," I began shaking my head as I wiped my cheeks and eyes. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You are just another character of the author who's dealing with your own set of shitty problems."
"Right..." Derek drawled at that, confused, probably thinking it as some analogy or metaphor. "Can't say I understand your teenager talk, but as I said, it's okay." A smirk rose to his lips as he continued. "In fact, somebody once told me not to bottle up my emotions until I break. That it's good to let them out from time to time before they screw us over."
